


'Cause I'm On Fire Tonight

by catsteww



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: ? - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Human, Fireman!Derek, Fluff, M/M, One Shot, Stupid!Jackson, i dunno.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-10
Updated: 2014-03-10
Packaged: 2018-01-15 07:23:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1296388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catsteww/pseuds/catsteww
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott finally made a run for the kitchen, returning to Stiles' side with a teacup full of water and his eyes wide with hope.</p>
<p>Stiles looked from the teacup to the 8 foot flames.</p>
<p>"<i>What the fuck is that going to do!?<i>" He cried.</i></i></p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>Or, the one where Jackson rooms with Scott and Stiles and fucks everything up.</i>
  </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	'Cause I'm On Fire Tonight

**Author's Note:**

> Totally un-beta'd. All mistakes are mine, sadly.  
> *Title from the song "Fire" by Raghav.

As far as crazy stories go, Stiles had a few pretty damn good ones.

When he was 18 he accidentally lit his apartment on fire.

Or, rather, his and his best friend's shoe-box apartment. Complete with a bathroom so tiny Stiles knocked his elbows on the door knob every fucking time he went in there.

It wasn't a very big loss. Well, except the fact that it took them both 7 years, each paying $300 a month, to pay it off.

But, getting back to the fire thing, it was actually a multitude of fuck-ups that made such a thing possible.

\-----------------

It was all _stupid Jackson's _fault.__

It really all started when he started to room with them.

\-----------------

Stiles and Scott had a neighboring family just down the hallway from them whose son wanted to move out already. At the ripe, stupid age of 16, Jackson Whittemore had decided he was mature enough to live in his own place. His parents called bullshit (Stiles figured it was 'cause they didn't want to pay for his place as well as theirs, 'cause everyone knew Jackson was too good to get a part-time job and actually pay for his own expenses).

Nevertheless, he wanted to move out.

Where Stiles and Scott came in was where the fun began.

Scott had been checking the mailbox when Mrs. Whittemore strode up to him to complain. As usual. And Scott, being the puppy-eyed, I-don't-like-confrontations kind of guy, listened to her. And he agreed to let Jackson stay with them for a little while so he could see what real life was actually like.

Stiles threw a tissue box at Scott.

But a deal was a deal, and they were stuck with stupid Jackson.

"I swear, he's just a real-life Ken doll," Stiles said after a week of living with him. He lay with his back draped over the arm of the couch so all the blood rushed to his head, "he's fake and stupid and he gels his hair waaayy too much and he takes like 67 years in the bathroom. Does he shit out plastic? That's why he takes so long to get a move on? 'Cause he's secretly constipated as all Hell and that's why he has that stupid look on his face all the time? Oh, wait, no, I know why he takes so long -- he has to practice his 'douche bag of the year' speech for the _thousandth time _-"__

"Oh my God, Stiles, I'm sorry! I didn't think it was going to be this bad!"

" _OBVIOUSLY. _"__

\-----------------

Stiles spent a lot of time curled up with his cat out on the balcony. Through the sliding door, he could almost not hear Jackson. Stupid Jackson. He ate all the food they had. And they didn't have a lot. It was mainly popcorn and instant noodles. But now they didn't even have those to choose from.

Slowly dragging his nails through Apple-Head's fur, Stiles cooed down at his cat, "If you scratch his eyelids off in his sleep, I wouldn't hate you."

Apple-Head farted against his thigh.

"Thanks."

\--------------

Then it happened. The Thing.

Stiles was reading Game of Thrones in bed one night. It was the best fucking book of the series so far and he was really getting into it. Then his bedside lamp burnt out.

"I hate my life," he groaned, rubbing his face.

"I bet _stupid Jackson _switched out my good light bulb with a shitty dollar store one so he'd have more light to shine on his pores in the morning," he said to Apple-Head, whose black fur blended into the bedding so all Stiles could see were her green little eyes.__

Sighing, he climbed out of bed.

"Scott."

Scott whined from the couch.

"I swear, Stiles, he won't be here much longer. Plus, he's at a movie right now, so I really don't know why you--"

"This isn't about _stupid Jackson _," Stiles replied, his voice muffled as he dug through the hall closet. "I need... I -- need," he strained to reach past the big Bertha box that blocked the tool kit. There weren't any light bulbs.__

"Are we out of light bulbs?" He sighed, closing the closet doors and turning to look at Scott.

Scott's eyes were glued to the TV and his pop-tart nearly missed his mouth because of it. "Uh, yeah. You said that we shouldn't keep spare ones in the house or else you'd do something stupid with them, like practice juggling."

Biting his lip, Stiles hummed, "Oh, yeah." He stood there for a good 3 minutes, berating himself for being an imbecile.

"Okay, I'm gonna light a candle so I can read and not have to get up to shut off the light when I get tired," Stiles decided. "Can you make sure Apple-Head doesn't come into my room? Oh, and before you go to bed, can you poke your head in and blow the candle out if I fall asleep and don't do it myself?'

Scott nodded and tossed him a pop-tart.

True friends.

So, pushing aside Apple-Head with his foot, Stiles closed his door and grabbed a lighter in one hand, candle in the other. It was a pink dolphin candle from Scott's family trip to Hawaii. They were both proud of his find and showed it off to every guest that came over.

Stiles lit the candle and curled back under the covers. It took about 7.5 minutes for him to fall asleep with the book on his face.

It took about 19 minutes for Scott to fall asleep on the couch.

Apple-Head whined at the lack of attention and pawed at Scott's sock. When that didn't work, she re-positioned herself in front of Stiles' door and meowed her little heart out.

It took about 30 minutes for stupid Jackson to return from his movie.

He arched an eyebrow at Apple-Head. Apple-Head stared up at him with wide, glistening eyes. She was let into Stiles' room 2 seconds later 'cause Jackson was actually a closeted softie. He then went to bed himself.

Apple-Head, being a stumbling little kitten, climbed her way up the bed. In an attempt to get comfy, she began kneading at the pillows beside Stiles' head. Her tail flicked happily behind her, smacking the candle onto the carpet.

It took about 7 minutes for Stiles to wake up due to sweating buckets. He was pretty sure his ass was on fire. Looking around in his sleepy state, he realized his ass _was _on fire.__

"Holy God!"

Stiles leaped to his feet, shucking off his PJ bottoms to leave him in only a t-shirt and boxers. He called out for Scott.

It turned out Scott was completely useless in an emergency.

He stood, traumatized, at the sight before him. By the time Stiles got him to start moving, stupid Jackson was running around crying like a girl and the fire had burnt a hole in Stiles' bedroom floor and had moved on to the living room.

Scott finally made a run for the kitchen, returning to Stiles' side with a teacup full of water and his eyes wide with hope.

Stiles looked from the teacup to the 8 foot flames.

" _What the fuck is that going to do!? _" He cried.__

When the firemen finally came, Jackson was curled up with Apple-Head in a corner of the kitchen, Scott was trying to salvage gifts his girlfriend had given him over the years, and Stiles was too busy ogling one of the firefighters to do anything productive.

But, actually, holy shit. Hot Fireman was stubbly and green-eyed and hot. No pun intended. And he was Stiles' height. It was destiny.

So Stiles did the first thing that came to mind.

And pretended to faint.

He clearly did a good job since Scott let out an alarmed squeal and Hot Fireman swooped in to pick him up with one arm under his knees, the other behind his back. Stiles was literally being cradled against Hot Fireman's chest.

It was then that he only just realized how shaken up he actually was.

Holy shit, he was alive. His mind frantically went through all the things he'd have to do and buy in order to get back on his own two feet. He would have to call his dad asap before he heard the story from someone else. Oh god, what if someone in the Sheriff's office told him and he had a heart attack?

Stiles was about to go into a full-blown panic attack when he realized Hot Fireman was taking him somewhere. It was significantly cooler where they were now standing.

Cracking an eye open discreetly, Stiles noted they were in an elevator. What.

"Aren't we supposed to take the stairs in the event of a fire?"

No one ever said he wasn't a smart-ass.

Hot Fireman's crazy gorgeous eyes snapped down to him. They stared at each other for a little bit. Stiles was all wide-eyed and just realized that he had blown his cover. Hot Fireman's eyes were all 'You little shit just blew up your apartment and you're critiquing my techniques when I'm saving your life?'

Stiles offered a small wave.

Hot Fireman set him down.

The rest of the short elevator ride was pretty uneventful.

"Don't you guys get like... heat exhaustion from wearing all those layers while diving into fire?"

No answer.

The elevator doors opened and man, was there a lot of commotion outside. Hot Fireman man-handled him over to the ambulance. He wrapped a blanket around his shoulders, tucking it in between Stiles' fingers to get him to hold on. He left momentarily and returned with an oxygen mask.

He gently slipped it over Stiles' head, securing it over his mouth and nose. His fingers brushed past his cheek and Stiles shivered at the contact.

He watched hazily as Hot Fireman's fingers gently checked him over. He made Stiles look him in the eyes and then got him to follow his finger. It was a nice finger. He'd follow that anywhere. He put the finger down and Stiles took a moment to lift his wide, disoriented eyes up to Hot Fireman's calculating gaze. They seemed to like staring at each other, Stiles thought fondly. Hot Fireman had cheek bones to die for and -- from what he could see poking out under the helmet -- soft-looking, dark hair. Stiles was almost feeling bold enough to touch it.

Seeming satisfied, Hot Fireman went away and a paramedic stepped into his place and Stiles whined at the loss of his hero.

10 feet away, stupid Jackson lit up a cigarette to de-stress.

The entire Fire Squad yelled at him.

\-------------

As far as crazy stories go, Stiles had a few pretty damn good ones.

5 years later, Jackson was still an ass hole. But he had just moved out last month after getting kicked out by his parents.

"It's like he's never planning on leaving! He needs to go experience life!"

Scott was now a veterinarian and had been married for the past 4 years to the girl he had been dating at the time of the fire. Funny enough, the fire made him hysterical to the point of fearing his mortality. He proposed to her that night.

\----------------

Stiles wandered out of the bedroom and yawned, scratching at his stomach as he attempted to navigate the dark house.

Following the sound of keys, he stopped in the doorway to their house and smiled tiredly, completely ignoring the fact that he was about 296% sure his hair looked like he just stuck his finger into an electrical socket.

"Hey, Superman."

Derek shucked off his jacket -- Stiles giving an approving hum and eyebrow wiggle -- before giving in to Stiles' grabby hands. He let Stiles run his hands down his chest, over his arms, making sure everything was still intact.

Gently grabbing Stiles' chin, Derek tilted his face up to meet him in a soft kiss that made Stiles' toes curl.

"I'm alright," Derek murmured against his lips. He smelled like smoke.

Smiling, Stiles closed his eyes and buried his face in Derek's neck, breathing him in and letting their fingers tangle. He snorted a laugh upon hearing their rings clink together.

As far as crazy stories go, Stiles had a few pretty damn good ones.

Marrying Hot Fireman was probably number one on the list.

_Stupid Jackson _, man.__


End file.
